How to release your inner bitch
by BbyGreenBlossom
Summary: "Here's a simplification of everything we're going through: you plus me is bad news." In a world where Zoe Hart is a Muggle and Draco Malfoy is walking the streets of London pretending he's somebody else, strange things happen. This is not your typical love story. This is bound to be a disaster right from the start. Especially when he tries to hide a muggle at Hogwarts. Well...


Freaking Ritz Hotel. I made a spin. A triple spin, actually, if you're all about accuracy, flipping the bags in my hand. This usually sounds cliché-istic as hell, but I really felt like in one of those scenes in chick flicks. However, my classy move was all of a sudden ruined when a guy who was coming towards me frowned and gave me a weird look. I shot him a superior glance and ignored him. Pshh, he'd never make a good extra in a movie.

Once the victory music that was previously playing in my head stopped, I got back to the honks and the noise and the kids screaming in the nearby park. I tilted my head to take in the full sight of the prestigious hotel and after I scanned it from top to bottom, I laid my eyes on the doorman. He was rather old, but the expensive suit he was wearing made him look sophisticated and somehow royal. I saw him looking at me, amusement in his smile as I smiled back. Cause I'm just so friendly.

I passed on the other side of the street to get to Green Park. I honestly don't know why people bitch about London weather so much. It's so sunny here! But then of course, I've only been here for a day so that doesn't really make me an expert.

I've no idea what's with this place, but I love it. Not just the park, but London in general. And England. Maybe the fact that I come from a rather small town has something to do with it. Of course. Why else would I be so thrilled about big cities?

I'm Zoe, by the way. Zoe Hart, the 18-almost-19 year old girl that just got out from high school and has a few months in front of her before she has to go to college to study medicine. Actually, not _has_ to, more like can't wait to. Oh, God. I`m talking about myself in the third person. I'll set such a good example to my patients if I consider becoming a psychiatrist.

So I'll study medicine and I'll be the Nobel-prize-winner-best-doctor-ever. And I'm not doing this because my parents want me to, as you might think. This is not that kind of story. Nope, they actually don't. They would prefer it if I went to Law School, since both of them are lawyers and are very proud of their jobs. Good for them. I love them, but I hate their job. Actually no, scratch that. I don't hate it because it's what provides us the money to do whatever the hell we want to do, but still. Not relevant to the story. I like to think I'm good with people and I can see behind masks and stuff and I just want to… you know, do something with my life that I actually feel helps someone. So I'll be a doctor.

I convinced my parents to let me stay in London for about two weeks, to celebrate the fact that I finished high school. I'm here with one of my former class mates. She's working in a bar and I feel kinda bad that I'm really just wasting time, visiting.

You know how people who travel make it look like it's all a big adventure and opportunities pop up when you least expect them and stuff like that? That's what I wanted. Some adventure. Because I'm that classy girl who never embarrassed herself in public (too much) and was the pride of the family. I like being that. But I do want to get crazy for a while, while I still can. And what better way to do it than to come to a place where no one knows you? Like literally no one, except for that classmate who was God knows where.

I decided to follow that absolutely stupid advice and say yes to everything. Almost. Because if someone came and asked me if I wanted to be raped, I would rather consider my answer. Not that rapists are kind enough to ask you before they rape you, but hypothetically speaking.

So I was in Green Park. Alone. I just couldn't believe that feeling. It was so cool. I could do anything and no one would really notice. So I smiled like an idiot and looked around. Kids were playing, parents were talking, people were fighting, lovers were kissing, birds were chirping – you know, everybody was doing their thing. I leaned down next to a tree because I needed a bit of shadow. It was hot and I do not react good to high temperatures. I got my book out of my bag as well as my iPod and I put my headphones in my ears.

Can we pretend that airplanes  
In the night sky are like shooting stars?  
I could really use a wish right now  
Wish right now, wish right now

I was dancing to the song, mumbling the words and waving my hands up and down like the big rapper that I was. I even put down the book because I got so caught in the song and the lyrics and pretending I was on a stage. Trust me, Justin Bieber would be jealous on my dance moves. I was rakishly making a duck face and wiggling my arms as the dude continued with the song when someone sat down on the grass, on the other side of MY tree. Damn. So much about privacy. I ignored said person, but I stopped my dancing and picked up the book. From all of the trees in that park…

It was a stupid move because he obviously couldn't see me since we were back to back. Well not literally, separated by the tree, but still. But that's how you can get an idea about how self conscious I was.

I continued reading till I reached some paragraph that I found so freaking hilarious that I couldn't stop laughing. And I laughed and reread the paragraph and laughed again till the person that had previously sat next to me got worried, most probably, and shifted so that he could see me. I became aware that I was in a public space again and I was so disappointed that I couldn't, overnight, stop caring what people thought about my actions, because no one knew me and I wasn't going to see those people never again but eh, you know, old habits.

I barely heard him laughing and say something because the music was pretty loud. I considered ignoring him, pretending I couldn't hear him at all, but then again, I was in a foreign country and he probably just threatened me or something so I decided to be nice for little while before turning into the utter and complete bitch I was planning to be. I got my headphones out.

"Sorry, did you say something?" I asked him politely.

"I asked why you were laughing", he said in a raspy voice.

That was weird. People didn't do that back home.

"Oh, just something I read."

I was unbearably polite, as if I was talking to one of my teachers. And ashamed. Because I'm freaking shy and I hide that beneath politeness and smiles. Somehow.

"Tell me", he quickly responded.

I shifted my body so I could see who I was actually talking to, this time putting my headphones down for good. I was in London because I wanted to meet British people. Make friends, you know. So I figured I could start with this odd looking guy. It was better than nothing. Trust me, if he didn't have a British accent, I wouldn't have bothered talking to him.

We are going to skip the part where I resumed the funny story in the book and he just didn't seem to get it. I was laughing again (because I swear, it was funny!) but he was standing there like an idiot, trying to fake a smile or something. I mentally slapped myself. Maybe I just have a shitty sense of humor or I suck at telling jokes. Or maybe both. I swear, I sometimes wish so bad that I could read people's minds. God knows what he was thinking.

"It's funny. I'm just not good at telling jokes", I needed to clarify my reaction.

Way to go, Zoe. Your first could-have-been British friend thought you were stupid. And without a sense of humor. Just a tiny detail not worth taking into consideration.

But he laughed at my lame excuse. Good. And then he turned his back on me. Not good. I'm such a disaster. I giggled at how stupid I was and decided to ignore him further but just when I picked up the story from where I had left it, I felt someone sitting next to me. It was him Of course.

"The sun."

I gave him a puzzled look.

"The sun", he repeated. (_Tourette syndrome much?)_ "It's hurting my eyes", he pointed at the sun behind us. Which was pretty shiny. Not that you'd expect it to be something else but. Poor him.

"Oh, ok."

And now I was feeling uncomfortable. I'm a crazy person when I'm with my friends and no adults to judge me around, but when you first meet me, like I said, I'm shy and I'm mentally slapping myself for every sentence that comes out. Because I'm just socially awkward. Like a penguin. Except for the walk. I walk pretty normal. Or I hope so.

"You're not from here."

I put the book down. Ok, so now we were going to have a proper conversation.

"Nope, just visiting."

"What's your name? Where are you from?"

_Interrogation much?_

"Zoe, from a place where they teach us about stranger danger."

And now I was at that point when I got past the shy phase and to the sarcastic one. That was even worse because most people just won't get sarcasm and would rather think you're awkward or mentally retarded. Which I wasn't, I can't stress this enough.

Hopefully, he wasn't as retarded as I thought, because he laughed. Hm, go figure. I had British humor. I'm so London.

"I'm Gonzales."

"Speedy Gonzales?" I laughed.

"No. Ricardo Gonzales. But call me Rick."

He laughed. Even he was aware that his name was ridiculous. I raised an eyebrow. You have the name of a Mexican, you look like an unfortunate mix between a Chinese mum and a Viking and you go by an American nickname. Oh, and you have a British accent. Talk about multiculturalism.

"Ok… Rick".

"So, Zoey, what brings you here?"

"I want to marry Prince Harry. But I would settle for a rich husband".

He laughed. The sad part was that I wasn't joking. I'm a bit of a materialistic bitch. I said a bit. We all are.

His laugh was nice. I think it's about time to describe the guy. He had a rather interesting face. Big head that was probably compensating for a small brain (I just assume this things because I'm a nice person), some freckles on his large forehead, eyes shaped like an UFO... Ok, I don't know the image that's creating in your head, but stop. He wasn't that weird. He had incredibly beautiful blue eyes (which partially compensated for the UFO shape - Chinese gene, as I have previously mentioned) and abeauty spot right under his right eye. He wasn't much of a Burberry model, but he looked cute. His face was somehow… different. Apart from his eyes, the rest seemed just different. His black hair was pushed up in a messy quaff and I could tell he's not the kind of guy that is ready to get out of the house in 10 minutes. No, sir.

Still, he was dressed impressively. A purple shirt, jeans and shoes that seemed rather expensive. Yes, I'm that shallow. Plus, his laugh was adorable. Almost like a child's. I'm not weird for being so judgmental, am I? I mean, I almost never like a guy when I first see him. His personality makes it or breaks it. That doesn't apply for hotties like Chace Crawford or David Beckham. You don't need a second look to know they are beautiful and you'd be too mesmerized by their pretty faces to give a damn about their personalities. Duh. That would mean you're insane and you should probably make an appointment 10 years from now, when I'll be the best doctor ever.

"You are pretty materialistic and shallow." How did you figure that one out? "You should at least try to hide it".

"Oh, trust me, I usually do." I laughed and he probably didn't understand why. "But while I'm here, I can contact my inner bitch. I've always wanted to know what's it like to be the 'diva'."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know… no one writes stories from the bitch's perspective. The girl that gets all the guys and no other girl understands why. Cause they know she's a bitch and she's stupid, but boys still seem to want her, no matter what. And they are mean, too. So I want to try that."

"Try what, exactly?" he seemed rather amused as I was rambling.

"Be mean. And not care about people's feelings. And being just… not me."

He frowned.

"But that's not what you should do. Every shitty magazine tells you to just be yourself. Especially if you're nice, as you claim to be".

"Ricardo bambino, I read books, not magazines", I pointed to the book in my lap "and all the nice girls in here end up knocked up, dead, depressive or poor, none of which I aim to be."

I surprised myself. I was actually making this plan and considering it as I was talking. And it also surprised me that I was talking to a stranger about this.

"Who fucked you up like this?" he laughed.

Oh, no. Not the "what's behind this attitude" thing. Because it really isn't anything. I told you, I'm a good girl.

"No one" I laughed, too. Because it was ridiculous. Everything was just ridiculous. "Plus, it's only for two weeks. Just as long as I'm staying here. I'm experimenting this side of me."

He looked at me a bit confused, as if he didn't know whether I was bat shit crazy or making fun of him. And I wasn't either. I'm just weird, I guess.

Suddenly, just when I wanted to ask him something, he got up.

"Hey" I said in an accusing tone. He was supposed to be my first British friend.

"What?" he looked down at me.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got stuff to do."

"But…" You're supposed to help me find a rich husband and release my inner bitch, I continued in my head. (Un)fortunately, I realized that would be too much to say out loud, even for me.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Ok. Bye." I added, picking up my book.

He giggled, amused by my childish behavior.

"Same place, same time, tomorrow?" he asked.

It was my time to raise an eyebrow and to quickly let it fall back to its original place. Eyebrows are weird. Your facial hair isn't supposed to move up and down like that.

"Maybe. Don't build your hopes up" I said indifferently, without looking at him.

But when I did look, he was already gone. I watched him as he was getting farther. If you saw him from behind, you'd think he was someone important. He looked good. He was dressed good and he walked as if he owned the world. There was something about this guy.

HIS POV

My first experience of this kind was rather weird. That Zoe girl was weird. I answered my phone as I was increasing the distance between me and the park. People gave me strange looks.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" a monotone but loud voice made me take the phone away from my ear.

"Heading back. Where are you?"

"At the school, come here. You're late!" he added. I had a chance to hear others laugh and scream in the background before he hung up.

A few minutes and trains after that, I arrived. I opened the school's door and headed straight to the bathroom. Damn muggles and their small bathrooms. With clumsy moves I took off the wig and removed the make up. That felt way too girly and I seriously questioned my sanity. I couldn't decide if knowing so many people in movie and cosmetics industry was a blessing or a curse. I tucked in my bag the wig and the beauty products and headed towards the room where all that noise was coming from.

I didn't have a chance to say hello before my father grabbed my shoulder.

"Just because your name is Draco freaking Malfoy it doesn't mean you can be late whenever you want!"


End file.
